


Will You Stay?

by orbiting_saturn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:51:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_saturn/pseuds/orbiting_saturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam wants to believe. He always has.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Stay?

They’re not retired. That’s what Sam keeps telling Dean when he gets all twitchy, hands squeezing in and out of fists, pacing and picking things up and putting them back down. They’re not retired, they’re taking a break. 

Sam’s technically only thirty-three years old, but in his mind he’s a couple a hundred and _fuck_ he’s tired. After loosing Dean and getting him back so many times, when the Purgatory thing happened, Sam just about threw his hands up and went to build a boat in _Zihuatanejo_. But giving up wasn’t the Winchester way, so he dug his heels in and got Dean back with the added bonus of a ruffled angel. And he didn’t have to sell his soul or play bitch to Death and it certainly didn’t take over a year, so Sam was definitely ahead in the saving-brothers-from-alternate-dimensions column. Fuck yeah, he was a BAMF. 

So, Sam demanded a break. The Leviathans are gone, the angels are gone, the demons off licking their wounds or maybe just learned their lesson. It’s not like they don’t hunt, if a case falls on their heads a state or two away, but they’re not actively looking for trouble and that’s the best Sam could hope for, the biggest concession Dean could make. 

Instead, they’re camping out on the edges of the burnt husk that was once Bobby’s house. The deed to the land has their aliases on it, but it’s not their own. Still, Sam figures it’s the closest they’ll ever come to having a home. 

So, in the day, they rebuild and at night they switch turns between a mangled old camper and the two-man tent that’s been stashed in the trunk of the Impala since Sam was twelve. 

It’s Dean’s turn in the camper tonight, which just fucking figures since the temperature has finally dropped to just barely over frigid. At least there’s no wind, but Sam is still tucked tight as a burrito in his sleeping bag, breath puffing white clouds in the ambient light his eyes have adjusted to. 

For the last forty minutes, Sam has been deliberating on whether or not he should bite the bullet and invade Dean’s ten by four. It’d be too damned tight, with Dean kicking and farting in his sleep, but it’d be _warm_ and Sam’s starting to think that the horror of his brother breathing on his neck might just be a hell he can live with. He’s almost there, teeth starting to chatter, but the prospect of unzipping his sleeping bag is delaying him. 

Before Sam can take the leap, Castiel appears in the tent. Since the tent is barely big enough for Sam, Castiel appears _on top_ of him. Sam might squawk, just a tiny bit, but when a dude suddenly materializes on your solar plexus, that’s bound to happen. 

“You’re making an awful racket, Sam, and the birds are trying to sleep.”

Cas is still a little batty in the brainpan, but not quite so much as he was before Purgatory. Who’d have thought a little sabbatical in Monsterland would be so damn stabilizing?

There’s got to be a reason for Sam to complain about Castiel being sprawled all over him, but he really can’t think of it. Castiel is warm and if he’s on top of Sam, it means he isn’t off wandering the world. 

Cas doesn’t always stay with them, still likes to go off flitting from one place to another. It gets Sam’s teeth on edge when he’s gone, never knowing when he’ll come back, _if_ he’ll come back. Sam doesn’t have much left and he likes to keep what he’s got somewhere he can see it. Draped over him seems as good a place as any. 

“You’re very cold,” Cas says. Sam doubts he needs angel powers to make that observation since the tips of theirs noses are touching.

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but Cas blinks out just as fast as he blinked in. As fast as that, Cas blinks back in, but this time he’s smooshed into the sleeping bag with Sam. Naked. As to that, Sam is pretty sure he’s _also_ naked. 

“Um, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” And it’s said right into Sam’s cheek, smeared there under warm wet lips. 

“Where are our clothes?”

Castiel pauses, like he might be thinking, but then he _wriggles_ and Sam is suddenly super aware of the shift of skin on skin, fine hairs catching his own. 

“I was aiming for the front seat of the Impala, but it’s possible they landed in Kentucky.”

There’s no more cold, only warm flesh on Sam’s and Cas has tucked his face up under Sam’s chin. He’s breathing all hot into the dip of Sam’s neck, getting it moist and sending a new kind of chill down his front where they’re pressed so close.

“And-“ Sam has to swallow thickly, throat desert dry. “ _Why_ are our clothes possibly in Kentucky?”

Cas hums and fucking nuzzles Sam’s collarbones. Stubble rasps his skin, makes him gasp like a girl and tip his head back. It’s entirely involuntary, this baring of his throat, this surrender to sensation. Sam hasn’t been laid in _months_ and now he’s naked with his second favorite person in the whole wide world. It’s totally not his fault that he’s getting hard. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it. 

“I’m sharing my body heat with you,” Cas rumbles, lips moving against Sam. 

This is a brand of crazy reserved for Sam alone. If Cas pulled this kind of shit with Dean, it’d get him pistol-whipped or possibly stabbed in the neck. Neither of those things would kill Cas, but it would hurt his precious little feelings. 

Castiel’s thighs part around Sam’s hips and they fall impossibly closer together. There are hands sliding up Sam’s ribs, fingers dipping into the curves and planes, tripping up and smoothing down. It’s too fluid and thrilling, too full of intent to be innocent.

“I read on the internet that this is a precursor to sex.” 

Sam laughs, but it’s strained and maybe half-crazed. He’s dizzy and past the point where he should’ve shoved Cas off. “Is that what you read?”

Cas’ hips tilt into Sam, cock hard and crushed against Sam’s abs. Sam’s dick has risen too, slotted up in the warm space between Cas’ thighs. There’s some rational part of Sam’s brain that is telling him not to thrust into that space, to ignore the heat of Cas’ ass teasing him.

“I read many things,” Cas confides and sucks a kiss into Sam’s neck. “I’ve also watched many things. I’m confident that I could perform well for you.”

Sam groans and twists his face away from Cas, but there’s nowhere to go. They’re wedged too tightly together in the sleeping bag, bodies flush and Cas’ words are killing him. But this is _Cas_. It’s Cas and Sam knows that he isn’t all there, never really was to begin with. If it was just sex, if it could ever be just sex for him, Sam would let go, but it’s _Cas_.

“We can’t,” Sam gasps. “We can’t, Cas. You always _leave_ and one day you won’t come back and when you do, I don’t want to be always thinking of the one night I got to have you.”

So, that just happened. Sam just opened his mouth and let everything out. Cas may have sucked up all of Sam’s hellfire, but there’s still plenty of crazy floating around in his brain and now it’s out there. 

Cas stretches out over him, slim lines sprawling out and far too comfy. He’s so light, just bones and skin and compact muscle. It’s so good, wretchedly good, and Sam half wants him gone and half wants him to stay forever. 

“If you asked me to stay, I would never leave.”

It’s strangely romantic, the confession Cas mouths into Sam’s ear. And it’s probably a lie, but Sam wants to believe. He always has. It’s in Sam’s nature to hope and that’s one thing Hell couldn’t burn out of him. 

Cas doesn’t wait for Sam’s response, he doesn’t have to. It’s all over Sam’s body, the way he relaxes and tips his cheek into Cas’ temple. With just a gentle nudge, Sam is right where Cas wants him and their mouths slot together like matching puzzle pieces. There’s tongue and teeth and just the right amount of suction. Cas is a damned good kisser and Sam’s head swims from it, how his mouth gets all slicked up and bruised from the hard pressure. 

Without a break in the kiss, Cas rises up on his knees, the seams of the sleeping bag tearing open. A rush of cool air sweeps between them, perking Sam’s nipples. 

When Cas sinks down on him, Sam throws his head back, startled and amazed. It’s perfect, the tight wet clutch of Cas all around him. It’s perfect and impossible. “What-how,” Sam gasps around the plush give of Cas’ mouth, stuttering and confused and so fucking gone on the rise and fall of it. 

“I told you I would perform well for you, didn’t I?” Cas boasts and turns his hips, this dirty swivel that tugs so sweetly around Sam’s cock. 

And so it goes, this up and down, this turn and twist, Cas riding Sam like a wave. Sam can catch him up, dig his fingers in too hard and fuck his dick in too deep because Cas is an angel and can take everything he has to give. They can both be rough and a little bit desperate. From the neck down it’s filthy grinding, wet slapping skin where they meet in the middle. From the neck up, it’s gentle licks and nibbles, Cas’ lashes fluttering against Sam’s in butterfly kisses. They’re like a couple of girls with all of their sweet, loving kisses.

Sam glides his hands down Cas’ back, feeling the roll and coil of working muscles, down, down, all the way down to grasp hard at spread cheeks. He dips his fingers in, feels the spot where Cas is shoved full of him, presses against the slick, stretched rim like he just might try to make a little more room in there. 

It has Cas whining into Sam’s mouth, throws his rhythm all off, hips stuttering once or twice before he slams himself down. Sam grunts from the sudden, brutal thrust, from how Castiel takes every last inch of him so greedily. 

Cas cries out and clenches up, shoots warm slick between their bodies and Sam feels Cas’ dick jump and twitch against his stomach. Cas is still coming when the pressure in Sam rises, still rocking up and bearing down, still fucking himself so artlessly on Sam’s dick. It’s almost too much when Sam comes too, enough to get his breath catching and his eyes squeezing shut. He empties himself in Cas, the warm slick pouring in and leaking out. 

They collapse together, Cas panting and sweating and feeling all-too human with his ass still gripping Sam. They’re smeared with come and the cold starts to prickle at Sam’s skin but he’s got his arms full of warm angel and couldn’t move for the end of the world. 

Sam smooths his fingers through Cas’ hair, palms to the back of his head and keeps him facedown in Sam’s neck. 

“Will you stay?” Sam asks.


End file.
